


Broken Records

by prinsessa_mouse



Series: Living in Uggr [9]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Drug Withdrawal, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Magnus being frustrated that he doesn't understand Swedish, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Physical Abuse, Should've taken those Swedish lesson huh?, Skwisgaar purposely speaking in Swedish, Skwisgaar standing up for himself, Verbal Abuse, breaking dishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsessa_mouse/pseuds/prinsessa_mouse
Summary: Magnus and Skwisgaar fight for some type of dominance before the cycle repeats itself.
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Skwisgaar Skwigelf
Series: Living in Uggr [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021879
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Broken Records

“Jag vill inte höra det,” Skwisgaar muttered angrily.

His knees hurt from kneeling on the hardwood floor to pick up the tiny remains of their dishes. The glass shattered and shot throughout the kitchen and living room. Skwisgaar had to get his Chelsea boots on to avoid another incident of stepping on glass. His anger boiled to the surface because he caused the fight.

He tossed a glass onto the floor in a fit of rage when Magnus got into his space after he warned him to back off. Skwisgaar didn’t want to be touched, he made that clear in bed that morning when his husband tried to initiate sex. He wasn’t in the mood, he kept saying he didn’t want to be touched and smashing a glass got the older man’s attention.

Unfortunately, it became an open invitation for Magnus to flip his switch and trash the kitchen. They screamed at each other the whole time until Skwisgaar fled from the kitchen towards the bedroom. He planned to leave; it surprised him to get pushed up against the wall with Magnus’ hand wrapped around his neck. He stared him down, challenging his husband to choke him. He didn’t expect to start undoing Magnus’ belt or the hand dropping from his throat to unbutton his pants. They tore off each others’ clothes and had sex on their bedroom floor. Skwisgaar’s anger faded in the throes of passion. The sex turned from rough desperation into love making. The blonde laid on the bedroom floor afterwards staring up at the ceiling as he fought back tears. His body experienced pleasure and pain, his ego shattered. He felt trashy especially when his husband cleaned him up. The older man tried to make a joke about the mess on the floor which brought the tears cascading down his cheeks. Magnus gathered him up in his arms, he held him to his chest while apologizing. He loved when they had heated sex, today was the first time he felt worthless.

The anger returned when the younger man got dressed and went to clean up all the broken glass littering the floors. He kneeled on a piece of glass which pissed him off even more. When Magnus offered to help, he snapped at him. His husband rambled off many apologies and promises to be better.

“I don’t know what that means,” Magnus said. He carded his fingers through his curly hair nervously.

“I DON’TS WANT TO HEARS IT!”

Magnus buried his head in his hands next. He rarely cried except for his breakup with his university girlfriend, his mother’s death, and marrying Skwisgaar. His emotions were all over the place. He went from happy to sad in a split second. Crying showed weakness, it made him less of a man. Crying was something Skwisgaar did professionally. He didn’t take to his husband yelling at him very well.

Skwisgaar heard the sniffle. His head shot up to see his husband sitting on the couch crying. His heart sank, he set aside the dustpan in his hand and crawled over to the couch. “Magi, what’s wrong?” he said softly. Skwisgaar rested his chin on his husband’s knees.

“All I do is fuck up,” Magnus choked out.

“I am sorries I yelled ats you in Swedish and breaks our kitchen,” Skwisgaar said sitting up more on his knees to hug his husband’s waist. His face soon met Magnus’ bare chest and the tiny bit of body hair that he adored so much. He’d own up to his side of the fight, he started it. He’d admit his patience waned from the night before. Magnus shook him awake over a nightmare; he couldn’t fall back asleep because he feared he might not wake up. He worked himself up into a panic attack then fell asleep leaving Skwisgaar unable to sleep.

Skwisgaar realized how cruel his words could be. He spat out hatred in Swedish and English. He witnessed Magnus’ expression fall, he marvelled in the saddened look in his husband’s brown eyes. He took joy in kicking him down because it seemed to hurt as bad at the bruises that slowly healed on his body. Magnus never broke though; he stoically took the verbal abuse thrown at him.

For all Skwisgaar’s small victories in finally having the upper hand, he hated it. He didn’t enjoy seeing Magnus cry like this. The withdrawal took a lot of out him, the temptation to open that security baggie of heroin always on his mind and he resisted the urge. For two whole weeks going on a third, he stayed off the drugs and cut down on his drinking too. Skwisgaar should’ve praised him for all his hard work. The older man seemed to want to change.

“Snälla gråta inte älskling,” Skwisgaar pleaded. He pressed his cheek to Magnus’ chest that shook from the sobs overtaking his body. “Jag är så ledsen att jag skadade dina känslor.”

“I don’t understand.”

Skwisgaar changed tactics. Instead of hugging Magnus, he released him in favor of pulling his hands away from hiding his face. “I am sorries that I hurts your feeling and started a fights with you. I don’t wants you to cry. I speaks in English okay?” he offered.

“You know I am going to relapse,” Magnus choked out. He didn’t dare look into Skwisgaar’s eyes. He felt those icy orbs piercing his soul.

“I believes you can does this. Just because I ams in bad moods doesn’t means I gives up on you,” Skwisgaar said lovingly. He understood it might take time, there would be a few relapses before recovery, he saw the change. He believed deep down in his heart that his partner would overcome this. If Pickles could get past heroin, why couldn’t Magnus? Someone strong willed like his husband should be able to accomplish sobriety.

Magnus reeled in his emotions. He needed to reassert himself as a man before this got out of control. He tried to yank his wrists from Skwisgaar’s grasp and failed. “Let go,” he warned.

“I won’ts let you go,” Skwisgaar replied sadly.

“Do you want to fight? It wasn’t enough for you to start smashing our dishes and screaming at me in Swedish? You always wanted to play the big man huh? Feel like you have the power for once,” Magnus said his voice started to increase in volume and venom. “I can make you remember the rules. Just because I am sobering up doesn’t mean you run this house.”

Skwisgaar scowled, “Pfft I gots mad. I ams tired running offs my feet to takes care of you. You don’t understands how hard it is to keeps hiding that heroins from you. I knows you search for it. I think you cans get past this. I puts off a lot of things to be homes with you because I loves and cares about you!”

“Let go of my wrists.”

“Nej, I am nots letting you go. You wills sit here withs me and talks. I can’ts keep livings like this! We needs to work ons our relationship. It is brokens, I knows we can fix it.”

The mention of their marriage caused Magnus to put his full force into shoving Skwisgaar away from him. The grip on his wrists released him from the shackles of his husband’s overbearing devotion. His free hands pushed the younger man hard into the coffee table causing it to skid across the hardwood a foot.

Skwisgaar put his hands up defensively.

“Not so tough, now are you?” Magnus asked slapping at the blonde’s hands.

The younger man shrunk down.

“Common sweetheart…sötnos. I thought you liked when we got rough. You liked my hand around your neck back in the bedroom. You can handle this.”

Skwisgaar’s head shot up, his blue eyes widened in rage. He put his hands down and straightened his posture. He didn’t deserve this type of abuse. He didn’t feel like tolerating it right now. “Varför slår du mig inte igen? Låt dig känna dig stark,” the blonde spat indignantly.

“Do you think I enjoy doing this to you? Fuck!” Magnus screamed. He got up from the couch, he paced around the living room. He pulled at his hair; he kicked at the furniture. He eyed everything within his reach. There were a few new picture frames and breakables. It’s not like they didn’t do this weekly.

The blonde got to his feet as well. He trembled in fear. Nathan taught him to punch when Magnus lifted his hand to hit him. He could hit him if he needed too. He clenched his fists, he readied himself. If Magnus wanted to know if he enjoyed getting beat up, he was ready to show him how he felt about it.

The older man stopped his pacing to regard his husband. He noticed the clenched fists and burst into a manic laughter. “Oh Princess, you’re really feeling brave today, aren’t you?” he teased.

“Worst you can does is hits me or makes me read you Dr. Seuss. I alreadies has to clean the house.”

“I’m going to suggest two options and you can choose which one you like the outcome of more. We can take this spat into the bedroom, we can hate fuck the hell out of each other which I know you like doing and we both get release. Or since you feel brave Princess, I’ll let you throw the first punch then its whoever’s game. Fight until someone taps out and I know it’ll be you, Skwis. Which one sounds better to you?”

Skwisgaar scoffed, “I gets fucked either way.”

“Then maybe you want to stand down. Clean up the living room and stop looking down upon me with your snide comments in Swedish.”

“Maybe I shoulds play game with you. Makes you choose which you loves more. Me or that little baggies of heroin,” Skwisgaar challenged. He stood his ground, Pickles told him a time would come when he needed to confront Magnus and ask him to choose. His bravery got him this far.

The older man’s lip trembled.

“What’s? If you choose the heroins I gives it to you. You says you’re goings to relapse anyways rights?”

Magnus’ rage fizzled out again. Skwisgaar’s words stung worse than ever when he sounded disappointed. He couldn’t have his husband losing hope. He cleaned up; he went almost three weeks without the drugs. The choice was obvious and even though his husband stood there confidently, his blue eyes deceived him. Behind those eyes was his husband pleading for him to choose him, fear that the furniture would get upturned and he’d get beat up. He mocked Skwisgaar about being brave when he stood there holding their marriage together to the best of his ability. Trying to make the right choices so he didn’t suffer another round of injuries that never seemed to heal. He needed Skwisgaar to believe in him and help him through the next set of hurdles.

“Heres,” Skwisgaar said taking his wallet from his back pocket. He carefully removed the dime bag of heroin from the space he kept his condoms and tossed it at his husband. “I didn’ts think you’d choose mes.”

The baggie bounced off Magnus’ bare chest then down onto the hardwood floor where all the glass lay. He glanced at the small bag that could send him back three weeks if he chose the drugs. He heard Skwisgaar’s boots on the hardwood, hasty steps as he fled the living room.

“Skwisgaar,” he yelled. He leaned down to grab the heroin and followed his husband into the bedroom.

“What does you want?” the blonde yelled back. He turned on his heels, ready to lay into Magnus for coming into his space when he saw the tears trailing down his husband’s cheeks.

Magnus stayed a few feet away. Skwisgaar looked beautiful even when he cried. His blue eyes somehow darkened up like sapphires against the red backdrops. It sickened him a bit to think about the image of his husband crying being pretty. It came off poetic though. Skwisgaar seemed defeated, his confidence gone because of this decision. Magnus held up the baggie, pinching it between his fingers in disgust. “I choose you,” he said softly.

“Ursäkta mig?”

“You.”

Skwisgaar stood awkwardly in the middle of their bedroom, staring at his husband in disbelief.

“I choose you, Skwisgaar,” Magnus said. “Du älskling.”

“I can’ts hold onto the heroin anymore.”

Magnus budged from his spot, strolling into the bathroom, and turning on the sink. “I’m not asking you to do that for me. It’s gone,” he said opening the bag and dumping it into the sink. The heroin washed away quickly in the flood of water.

“You sures you want me?” Skwisgaar sniffled.

“Maybe I should be asking you that question.”

Skwisgaar ran into the bathroom and embraced Magnus. He held his face in his hands, his thumbs wicking away tears in the process. “Of course, I still wants you,” he sighed.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Swedish Translation:**  
>  Jag vill inte höra det - I don't want to hear that/it  
> Snälla gråta inte älskling - Please do not cry darling  
> Jag är så ledsen att jag skadade dina känslor - I'm so sorry I hurt your feelings  
> Varför slår du mig inte igen? Låt dig känna dig stark - Why don't you hit me again? Make yourself feel strong.  
> Ursäkta mig - excuse me  
> Du älskling - You darling  
> This one I started, re-started, returned, pondered then said here's a stick you two figure it out!  
> So back when I asked if this series would be of interest to anyone, someone said maybe an insight into a fight. Here is Skwisgaar's tired rock bottom mood coming out then relapsing back into Magnus' madness. This was their own little version of fucked up as they struggle to keep it together.  
> Next is Charles!!! I cannot wait I've been so excited to write this next part!  
> So happy reading <3


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